"No," Elara said, her eyes fixed on the bumper of the Porsche ahead of them.

"Julian was amazing on the black slopes," Serena continued, turning slightly to look at him in the back. "Remember that night at the chalet? The fondue?"

Julian didn't answer. He was reading a file on his tablet, the blue light illuminating the sharp angles of his jaw. The silence in the car was thick, suffocating. Every time he shifted his weight, the leather of his shoes creaked against the floor mats.

Elara felt a cramp in her stomach. She needed this to be over. She needed to be away from them.

The Porsche in front of them slammed on its brakes.

Elara reacted a split second too late. Her boot stomped on the pedal, but the old brake pads were worn. The tires skidded on the damp asphalt.

Crunch.

It wasn't a hard impact, but it was loud. The Toyota's front bumper kissed the rear of the pristine 911.

Serena gasped, her hand flying to the dashboard. "Elara!"

In the backseat, Julian's hand shot out. He grabbed the back of Elara's headrest, bracing himself. His other hand instinctively flew forward, hovering inches from Elara's neck as if to stop whiplash, before he curled his fingers into a fist and pulled back.

The car stopped.

Silence.

"Is everyone okay?" Julian's voice was low, tight with suppressed tension.

"I... I think so," Elara whispered. She was shaking.

The driver's door of the Porsche flew open. A man in a flashy suit stormed out, his face red. He marched toward them, waving his arms.

"Are you blind?" the man screamed, slapping his hand against Elara's window. "This is a limited edition! Do you have any idea how much this paint costs?"

Elara fumbled with the window controls. The glass rolled down with a grinding noise. Cold air rushed in.

"I'm so sorry," she stammered. "I hit the brakes, but-"

"Look at this piece of junk!" the man shouted, kicking the Toyota's tire. "You shouldn't even be on the road. You can't afford to look at my car, let alone hit it!"

Serena sighed loudly. "Great. Now we're going to be late for dinner at Le Bernardin."

The back door opened.

Julian stepped out. He buttoned his jacket with a single, fluid motion. He stood a full head taller than the Porsche driver. The wind whipped his dark hair, but he looked unbothered. Dangerous.

The shouting man stopped mid-sentence. He looked up at Julian, his eyes widening.

Julian walked past him to inspect the damage. He barely glanced at the scratch. He turned to the man, stepping between him and Elara's window. He was a wall. A shield.

"You're upsetting my wife," Julian said. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a weight that made the other man shrink. His posture was lethal, a silent promise of violence if the man raised his voice again.

"She... she hit me," the man stuttered.

Julian reached into his pocket and pulled out a slim metal card case. He extracted a black card with gold lettering. He held it out.

"Call this number. My legal team will handle the repairs and the depreciation value. Now get back in your car."

The man looked at the card. He saw the name Sterling. The color drained from his face. "Mr. Sterling. I... I didn't realize. It's fine. Just a scratch."

"Go," Julian said.

The man scrambled back to his Porsche.

Julian turned back to the Toyota. He looked at Elara through the open window. She was trembling, tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

"Move over," he said.

"What?"

"Get in the passenger seat. Or the back. I don't care. But you're not driving."

"I can drive," Elara insisted, wiping her eyes. "I just-"

He opened the driver's door. He reached in, his hand closing around her wrist. His skin was hot against hers. The shock of the contact made her gasp.

"Elara," he said softly, for her ears only. "You're shaking. Get out."

She unbuckled her seatbelt. She climbed out, her legs wobbly. Julian didn't let go of her arm until she was steady on the pavement.

He pointed to the back seat. "Sit."

She opened the back door and slid in. Julian got into the driver's seat. He adjusted the mirror. His eyes met hers in the glass again.

He looked angry. But beneath the anger, Elara thought she saw a flicker of something else-relief.

---

She looked down at the floor mat.

Wedged deep into the metal track of the driver's seat, barely visible in the gloom, was a tiny flash of red. A Lego brick.

Her breath hitched. She glanced at the rearview mirror. Julian was merging into traffic, his eyes scanning the side mirrors. Serena was scrolling on her phone, muttering about reservations.

Elara slowly, carefully, reached down. She pretended to adjust her boot. Her fingers scraped against the grease of the seat track as she pried the sharp plastic loose. She shoved it into her coat pocket.

"What are you doing back there?" Julian asked.

Elara froze. "Nothing. Just... my shoelace."

Serena turned around, peering over the headrest. "You're so fidgety, Elara. It's making me nervous."

Elara gripped the Lego in her pocket until it hurt. "Sorry."

The radio was on low. A news anchor's voice cut through the tension. "...Nebula Systems announced a surprise angel investment today, stabilizing their stock after rumors of..."

Julian reached out and turned the radio off.

Elara bit her lip. Nebula. Her company. Or rather, the company she had built from the ground up in the shadows, hiding behind shell corporations and NDAs.

"Nebula," Serena mused. "That's the AI firm, right? I heard they have a chaotic management structure. But good tech."

"It's a solid investment," Julian said flatly.

"You invested?" Serena asked, surprised.

"Diversification," he said.

Elara looked out the window to hide her expression. He had invested? Julian was the angel investor?

"So, Elara," Julian said, his eyes finding hers in the mirror again. "Are you still wasting your time at that library in Queens?"

The lie tasted like ash in her mouth. "Yes. The public branch. It's... quiet."

Julian's jaw tightened. A muscle feathered in his cheek. "A quiet place for a mind like yours to rot," he murmured, almost to himself. "I thought you had more ambition than stamping due dates."

Elara flushed. He didn't know. He couldn't know that she was the lead architect behind the very system he had just invested in. "It pays the bills," she said softly.

"That sounds quaint," Serena said, her tone dripping with condescension.

They pulled up to the curb of the Four Seasons. Serena's hotel.

Julian put the car in park. He got out and walked around to open Serena's door.

"Thank you, Julian," Serena purred. She stood up, smoothing her skirt. Then, she leaned in. She kissed his cheek, lingering just a second too long. Her hand rested on his chest.

Elara looked away. She focused on a stain on the back of the driver's seat.

"I'll see you tomorrow at the office?" Serena asked.

"7 AM," Julian said.

Serena walked into the hotel, hips swaying.

Julian got back into the car. The silence returned, heavier than before. He didn't put the car in gear. He turned in his seat, draping his arm over the steering wheel to look at Elara in the back.

"Get in the front," he said.

"I'm fine here."

"I am not your chauffeur, Elara. Get in the front."

"It's a ten-minute drive to-"

"Now."

Elara opened the door. The cold air hit her face again. She walked to the passenger side and sat down. The seat was still warm from Serena's body. The smell of sandalwood was suffocating.

Julian put the car in drive. He didn't head toward the Queensboro Bridge immediately. He turned north.

"This isn't the way to my apartment," Elara said.

"We need to talk," Julian said.

"About what?"

"About why my wife is living in a walk-up in Queens when I own three empty penthouses in Manhattan."

---

"It's an embarrassment," Julian said. "The press is already sniffing around. 'The Sterling Estrangement'. Do you know what it does to the stock when they think I've abandoned you?"

"You did abandon me," Elara said quietly.

Julian slammed on the brakes. He pulled the car over to the curb, the tires crunching against the snow. He shifted into park and turned to her. The dashboard lights cast deep shadows over his eyes.

"I went to Zurich to save the company. To save us."

"You went to Zurich with her," Elara shot back. "For seven years."

"Serena is a business partner."

"Is that what you call it?" Elara laughed, a bitter, jagged sound. "She kissed you. Just now."

"She's affectionate. We grew up together. You know that."

"I know she hates me. And I know you let her."

Julian ran a hand through his hair, frustrating messing up the perfect style. "I am trying to protect you, Elara. You don't understand the wolves in this city."

"I'm not a child, Julian. I don't need protection. I needed a husband."

"Is there someone else?"

The question hung in the air like smoke.

Elara's heart stopped. "What?"

"In Queens. Is that why you won't move? Are you hiding someone?"

He was so close to the truth it made her dizzy. She was hiding someone. A six-year-old boy with Julian's eyes and Julian's stubborn chin.

"That's none of your business," she said.

Julian's face hardened. He looked like she had slapped him. "I see."

"It's not what you think," she tried to say, but the words stuck.

"I'm taking you home," Julian said, his voice dropping to absolute zero. He threw the car into gear, the tires spinning on the ice before catching.

"You don't have to-"

"I said I'm taking you home. I want to see this place you prefer over your own husband."

Panic clawed at Elara's throat. "No. You can't come up."

"Try and stop me."

The drive to Queens was a blur of terrified silence. When Julian pulled up in front of her dilapidated building, he stared at the graffiti on the door, his expression unreadable.

"This is it?" he asked.

"Yes," Elara said, unclipping her belt. "Goodbye, Julian."

"I'm walking you to the door."

"No!" She shouted it too loud. "I mean... the neighbors. They talk. Please, Julian. Just go."

He looked at her, his eyes searching her face for a long, agonizing moment. Finally, he unlocked the doors.

"Go," he said. "Before I change my mind and drag you back to the Tower myself."

Elara grabbed her purse. Tears burned her eyes, hot and fast. She wasn't going to let him see her cry. Not again.

She shoved the door open and scrambled out. The wind hit her instantly. She slammed the door with all her strength.

She didn't look back until she was safely inside the lobby door. Through the cracked glass, she saw the Toyota sitting there, idling. Julian didn't leave until the light in the fourth-floor hallway flickered on.

Inside the car, Julian gripped the steering wheel until the leather groaned. He picked up his phone and dialed a number.

"I want eyes on that building," he commanded. "24/7. Find out who goes in and out. Especially who she's meeting."

---